Mr Bester was the only casualty in what Ms Putter believes was an impromptu attack over a disabled parking space at the centre.

She further believes that Mr Bester had been on the spectrum but never diagnosed, perhaps explaining his fixation on the parking spot.

She offered some insights into Mr Bester’s psyche, which www.mobserver.co.za is publishing verbatim.

Ms Elaine Putter:

Picture this; My neighbour decides to learn how to play the bagpipes. Only problem is that he is not very musical.
And I have sensory processing difficulties, particularly auditory sensitivity.

As the situation continues unabated for four years, what would be reasonable to expect: I destroy either the bagpipes or the bagpipe player.
What do the collective view as a viable alternative: I should have moved away where I would not be subjected to the irritation, aggravation and destruction.
What would the legalistic position be: The noise pollution must stop.
What in fact happens: The noise pollution distracts me, upsets me. Makes me physically nauseas. I cannot focus.

I reasonably request, demand, insist, threaten. I escalate my complaints to the authorities and then to the authorities’ authorities. I take to the media and social media. I appeal to the law keepers and keepers of the law.

I have no voice, despite being able to quote the exact laws and articles involved and whose jurisdiction it is to impose these legalities.

I become obsessed. I cannot sleep. My work suffers. My finances collapse. Family, friends, clients abandon me, or I drive them out.

I become paranoid. Every practice session is an act of sabotage. Every desertion is siding with the enemy. Every conversation is about me. Every laugh is on me.

Every look is unfriendly and invasive. I can no longer focus. But I am razor focused on every movement of the enemy. I function in a war zone. I devolve. I spiral.

The enemy wins. And I am evicted. They rejoice.

I lose my identity. My livelihood. My sense of self. I am humiliated. Rejected. Discarded. Dehumanised. I lack validity. I implode.

What has in fact happened: The bagpipe player is charming, attractive, sporty, socially attuned and connected. He has a charming wife with a charming business.
I am socially awkward and cannot read social cues. So I talk too much and do not realise when you provide me with exit prompts. I overstay my welcome.

I don’t have close relationships and am disconnected from my family. My friends are my clients and neighbours. But mostly I keep to myself. I guess I could be called a loner.

I am polite and friendly. I greet everyone and help wherever I can.

I hoard. It is hard to be clean and sometimes the mess overwhelms me and I become depressed.

I am dishevelled and not as hygienic as required. There is a smell, particularly as I age.
I amble instead of stride. It is a wonder I do not trip more often.

My front tooth is broken. I have had a stroke. My blood pressure is not good and I have acid reflux. I cannot afford proper medical and dental care.
My car is getting old. I struggle to pay the rent.

I often work late at night and over weekends. My work is my identity.

Change distresses me. I resist it at all costs. When it is forced upon me I am unable to function and it takes me a long time to adjust.

Rules and regulations give order to my existence and help me to navigate. It offends me when others break the rules. It makes me feel threatened and out of control.

When they continue to ignore the rules after I have made them aware, I feel violated. The world becomes unpredictable and I cannot cope until order has been restored. I become obsessed until it does.

I am trapped in my own perspective and cannot adjust to others point of view, or incorporate in my analysis of a situation.

Because I cannot interpret social cues, because I do not understand how rules can be bent or are flexible, I easily become paranoid.
It does not mean I am stupid. In fact I am highly intelligent.

When my parameters are wiped out or ignored, I have no alternative coping skills and lose my way. I melt down.

It is uncomfortable to hold space for me. You seldom know how. It is simply easier to pretend I do not exist, avoid me, ignore me, cut me out or chase me away.

In conclusion; It really is not about who is right and who is wrong. It is about who is comfortable to be around.

May the place you find yourself in now, be a kinder one than the one you left behind.